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Until next time!
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Point of View — Tanner
I'm facing the newest thing I've learned to fear since waking up in this world.
School.
In the 1980s.
Don't get me wrong—but it was the era of highly normalized bullying, and I don't like fights. Never have. I'm the type who prefers to avoid trouble, talk things out, walk away. But if it comes to it… well, I always carry a bandage in my pocket.
For whoever I end up fighting.
What? You really thought I'd lose the fight?
Not a chance. Not even dead.
Still, I know exactly what my role is here.
Spectator.
Not protagonist. Not hero. Not now. Maybe never. My job is to observe, to understand the flow, to read what lies between the lines of the world. Interfering too early always goes wrong—I learned that the worst way possible.
It's strange to think about it, because… I reincarnated. And even so, I didn't wake up confused. I don't need to "figure things out" little by little. From the very first moment, I know.
I know who I was.
I know who I am now.
And I know, most importantly, what I'm capable of.
That dream of the black sea was the key.
At first, it seemed like just a nightmare—something too vast, too ancient, watching. But as the memories returned and the pieces fell into place, it became obvious.
That wasn't just a sea.
It was the Sea of Chaos.
The Sefirot associated with the God Almighty, exactly as described in Lord of Mysteries. A chaotic, strange, indefinable sea that seemed to contain all cores and, at the same time, all possibilities. A place where concepts blend together, where reality, destiny, and identity cease to be absolute.
What I saw… matched the description perfectly.
As if I hadn't merely dreamed of it—as if I had been acknowledged by it.
And then came the symbols.
Ever since I woke up, every now and then my mind is overtaken by a specific image: a gigantic dragon, a deep Alice blue, impossible to ignore. It doesn't appear like an ordinary thought.
The symbol of the Visionary Path.
At that point, there was no longer any way to pretend it was a coincidence.
Sea of Chaos.
God Almighty.
Visionary.
I could already imagine exactly what my powers were—and, more importantly, how careful I need to be with them.
And then—
BAM!
Point of View — Third Person
Partially immersed in his own thoughts, Tanner walked on without really seeing what lay ahead of him. His mind was still caught on the pieces he was trying to fit together—memories that did not fully belong to him, symbols that surfaced without warning, rules he knew existed even though he had never read them in that world.
Because of that, he didn't see when he collided with someone.
The impact made him step back, and a firm hand landed on his shoulder before he could lose his balance.
"Watch it, kid."
The voice was deep, tired, shaped by years of sleepless nights and difficult decisions. Jim Hopper, the Chief of Police of Hawkins, gave him a brief look before continuing down the hallway, accompanied by Calvin Powell and Phil Callahan. The three of them moved away at a hurried pace, speaking in low voices, the air around them heavy in a way that was hard to explain.
"Sorry," Tanner replied automatically.
But the apology came too late.
His eyes were already fixed on the broad back of the chief, and recognition hit him like a cold shock.
Hopper…
At Hawkins Middle School.
In '83…
A thought struck his mind like lightning.
'Has someone already disappeared?!'
Tanner's heart began to race. He made a quick, almost desperate calculation. Barely a day had passed since he had reincarnated into that world—a single day—and yet the central events were already in motion.
He cursed himself mentally.
There was no time.
Not to plan.
Not to think carefully.
And yet, the truth was cruelly clear.
He would have to act.
The problem was that by doing so, he would be breaking one of the most important rules for progress along the Visionary Path.
A Spectator is always only a spectator—and never steps onto the stage.
...
Later that same day, as soon as the final bell rang to mark the end of classes, Tanner left the classroom along with the flow of students. The hallway filled with voices, laughter, and hurried footsteps—the familiar sound of a school finally released into the afternoon.
That was when he saw them.
Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, and Dustin Henderson crossed the hallway at an almost running pace, backpacks slung over their shoulders, talking among themselves with an urgency far too intense to be ordinary. There was tension in their movements, urgency in their glances—exactly as Tanner remembered.
He stopped for a moment, watching them move away.
'Man… I really thought that was just the show exaggerating.' He thought with a quiet inner sigh. 'But no. Everyone's kind of weird as a kid.'
His gaze briefly swept over the trio's clothes, appraising them with involuntary humor.
'At least they're not wearing those short shorts from season three. There were way better clothes back then…'
With that, he turned, walked over to the bike rack, and grabbed his own bicycle. The cold metal of the handlebars beneath his hands brought an oddly comforting sensation—something real, solid, normal. He mounted it and began pedaling toward home, leaving the school behind.
Along the way, as the afternoon wind brushed against his face, Tanner organized the events of the first season in his mind.
The disappearance of Will Byers.
That was ground zero. The initial trigger that pulled every other event into motion like a chain reaction. Without it, nothing that followed would exist: not the group's encounter with Eleven, not the government's involvement, not the creatures, not even the people who would eventually uncover Vecna's plans.
The second major event was the encounter with Eleven.
At this exact moment, if his timeline was correct, she was probably hiding somewhere in a diner on the outskirts of town—dirty, hungry, trying to understand a world she had never truly known.
Tanner tightened his grip on the handlebars.
He knew there was a specific point where everything converged. A precise, fragile moment in which small decisions could alter entire paths without breaking the flow of destiny.
That was the only place he could step in.
That was where he—and Eleven—could cross paths with the group naturally, without forcing themselves onto the stage.
That moment wasn't at school.
Nor in town.
It was when the three—Mike, Lucas, and Dustin—decided to search for Will in Mirkwood.
"I'm home!"
Tanner's voice echoed through the house… only to be met by the absolute silence that ruled the place until at least ten at night. No footsteps, no automatic response, no radio playing in the background. Just the comfortable, predictable quiet of a house that ran on the typical rhythm of an '80s family.
The Keene family had two children.
The oldest was Melissa Keene, or Missy, as everyone called her—independent, practical, always out of the house whenever she could be. The youngest was Tanner Keene, or simply Tan. A simple, ordinary, almost generic structure, exactly like so many others from that decade. The household followed the same pattern as well: parents working late, children learning early how to fend for themselves.
Nothing extraordinary.
"What was I supposed to expect?" Tanner murmured to himself, dropping his backpack in a corner of the living room with a muffled thud before heading to the kitchen. He opened the fridge, stared at its contents as if it were a silent negotiation, and finally grabbed whatever could pass for a snack.
While chewing absentmindedly, his gaze drifted toward the window.
The neighboring house.
The Wheelers' house.
Tanner's shoulders tensed almost on reflex.
'I should mentally prepare myself not to punch Mike in the face.' he thought, with a flash of irritation that came both from the memories of the original Tanner Keene and from the previous life he carried with him.
Mike Wheeler was… functional. Important. Even necessary.
But annoying.
Very annoying.
He let out a low sigh, resting his elbow on the counter.
'Control.' He reminded himself. 'I can't lose my head over an idiot who can't even deal with grief properly.'
Time passed slowly, almost dragging, until night finally settled over Hawkins. The streets grew quiet, house lights flicked on one by one, and the distant sound of televisions began to dominate the neighborhood.
As expected, no one came home.
Tanner didn't even bother reacting. Even when the clock hit ten at night, he already knew what he was going to do. That house's routine had always been like this—far too predictable to surprise him now.
He was still eating when he heard the sound.
Vroom.
The low, sleek purr of an engine cut through the quiet street. Tanner looked up almost on reflex and moved toward the window, pulling the curtain aside slightly.
A red BMW was parked outside, partially hidden by the bushes around the house. The car gleamed under the streetlight, completely out of place in the rest of the neighborhood.
And when the door opened…
Tanner rolled his eyes.
'Steve "Asshole" Harrington.' He thought automatically, watching the boy step out of the car with the exaggerated confidence of someone who thinks the world revolves around him. 'Seriously… only next year do you become one of the best characters in this show.'
Steve hurried across the lawn and went straight to the Wheeler house. Tanner followed everything from the window, leaning against the wall as if he were watching a live episode.
Then came the embarrassing part.
Steve climbed onto a side structure and tried—quite shamefully, actually—to scale his way up to the roof of the house. He slipped once. Then again. Nearly fell.
Tanner put his hand to his mouth, stifling his laughter.
'Okay… this is funny.'
A few seconds later, the door of the Wheeler house opened carefully. Mike came out, already on his bike, wearing a dark hoodie and carrying a backpack over his shoulders. He paused for a moment, clearly surprised to see Steve there.
Steve waved casually, as if he weren't in the middle of an extremely suspicious attempt at breaking and entering.
Mike rolled his eyes.
Without saying a word, he moved on, pedaling down the quiet street, completely ignoring the presence of the "king of the school."
Tanner watched until Mike disappeared around the corner.
The smile on his face slowly faded.
'So this is it.' he thought.